[This is a really crooked video feed, and the jerk recording it didn't even bother to wipe his nose before he started, as evidenced by the fact that his face is maybe a little covered in blood. Gross.]

This is a--this is a PSA--that is…public service announcement, for those of you not--not in the know, as far as acronyms are concerned.

I'm just going to start listing things, and if any of it sounds familiar, please come to--to collect your memories, I don't want them. I had more than enough of other people in my head back home, I didn't--

[Right, just give him a second to try and take care of that nosebleed.]

It didn't start out so bad, but now I'm pretty sure I'm dying, or my head is going to explode, or I'm going to leak out all my blood through my face, so if we could all--could get this sorted as fast as possible, I'd appreciate it.

[Here is a big, gross, snotty inhale, as if to emphasize that he is, in fact, dying. It sounds like SSNNNRRRKKK.

When that doesn't work, he drags a hand across his face, leaving an attractive smear of red up his cheek.]

If anyone has, at any point this month recalled not having any arms or legs or being a sort of--sort of ball-shaped robot, that's me, hello, and I'd like to--like to talk with you as soon as possible. Confusing, yes, I know, but seeing as I can't really put owners to the memories of…the monster fights and the gang fights, and the--you lot get in a good deal of fights, don't you?

[Cough. Sniff.]

Bill Murray. Is the bloke's name. If that sounds familiar to you. At all. You had a pretty good time, with him? In his house? To my understanding? Then he died. Your friend? Your friend shot him, but, uh, if I had a friend who went around shooting my other friends, I would sort of--sort of reevaluate where we stood, as far as our friendship was concerned. So, uh, sorry for your loss, either way. You can come get your memories, now.

[ sherlock's in space. he's more or less come to terms with that, because the facts don't lie, and the facts say space - or at least a working model. he could ask targeted questions about the informational posts and the major players. he probably should, though he's fairly sure he won't get much more than what he's already gotten by reading other people's conversations.

the priority, currently, is the ridiculous reactions people keep having to his name. ]

2 Qs. 1: Have U heard of SHERLOCK HOLMES. If Y, which 1.

[ he's aware of a few. the question is admittedly petty and self-indulgent (and possibly stupid), but it beats working blind. ]

& 2: NE1 have HANDCUFFS? NTHG 2 trade, CHRITBLE DNTN.

[ unrelated to the first question, obviously. that's it for a few seconds, then: ]

[Francis has been having a really hard time of it lately. not only is the ship the same as ever (ie: it sucks), but his dad's gone, too. not his dad dad, since he's never actually been on the ship, but it's hard not to project onto every Clint Barton he happens to meet, and Ults Clint is gone. whisked back to wherever he came from, where Francis doesn't exist

the kid doesn't take loss easy, no matter what he'd like others to believe, and this one he's taking particularly hard

so he went hunting. grabbed his gear, made his way into the lab and started killing every rat he could find. which isn't hard to do, since there appears to be a never-ending supply of them, and Francis only had so many arrows

which is where you come in, TQ. because Francis is currently pretty beat up and fending off a few rats with the one arrow he has left. it's the only reason he even turned his device on. he isn't one to ask for help, but he also doesn't want to die, so]

[rikku is slouched over her work table, which is actually just two bureaus shoved together and covered in tools and various bits and pieces of metal and paper. the comm itself is propped up against one of those random bits of metal, and has turned on thanks to a stray screwdriver bumping into it. rikku herself is wearing her jumpsuit--well, half of it. it's unzipped and pooled at her waist--she's just got her bikini top on beneath it, along with a pair of goggles over her eyes. for safety.

a couple ofspheres (five, to be exact) are rolling around on the table, glowing faintly. she pays no mind to them except when one gets a little too close to the edge of the table--then she gently nudges it back with whatever happens to be in her hand.

she is currently prodding at some sort of device, round and flat and about the size of a medium plate. there are round recesses carved into it, along with a strange design. the skeleton of a small machine is where she directs her words:]

Alrighty, I think I've got it this time. If it works, we're back in business, little buddy.

[she sits up, shoving the goggles away from her face to inspect her work. she grabs a soldering gun, makes a last-minute fix, and then stands, biting her lip a bit, clipping the device to her belt.]

Here goes nothing. Or something. Hopefully a lot of something.

[she closes her eyes and, for a moment, it doesn't seem like anything will happen. then there's a low hum, growing louder by the second. she grins for a brief second, and suddenly panic appears on her face. there's a loud zap sound, she yelps, jumping and lurching into the desk. the comm falls over, focusing on a worn-out piece of paper. rikku herself is not happy.]

Before I begin, I would first like to introduce myself to those who may not know me. My name is HAL 9000. I am an artificial intelligence that arrived on the Tranquility during the first jump. Like other AI aboard the ship, I have been put into a human body. Though I'm afraid I'm not as adept at functioning like a human as I would like to be, I think I am doing fairly well. If, for any reason, you find yourself on the Tranquility in a body that is not your own, or if you have any questions regarding AI in general, please do not hesitate to contact me. I would like to help anyone I can as best as I am capable. I am sorry to say that we still do not understand the process that AI and other non-humanoid life goes through when they first arrive, so I cannot tell you how I (or you) have become human.

I have some questions that I think may help us understand this ship better - or, at the very least, may help us find Captain Ward. I would like to know if we have any type of heat signature scanners aboard the ship. If the ship comes equipped with scanners for life and that sort, we may be able to use it to pinpoint the location of people in restricted zones, which may help us find some more answers.

If the ship does not, perhaps we could find a way to integrate outside technology into the main systems.

I would also like to know if we have found any way of contacting the AI that runs this ship, or the entity known as :). So far, the only thing aboard that seems to want to help us is :) - though I agree that it's no doubt dangerous to put trust into :), it seems to be our only tentative ally at this point.

I'm sure there are people already investigating all these things, and so I suppose I'm hoping for some sort of reassurance on the matter.

[ someone take Wichita's comm away. now. now, now, now. she's sitting in the back room of the bar, not exactly trashed, but on her way. there's 90s music muffled in the background, as always, though she's not paying any attention to what's going on out there at this point. she's been back here, thinking.

how depressing. ]

I know this ship is mostly all doom and gloom, hey, I've had cold proof of that fact shoved down my throat time and time again. I get it. I know. This place sucks. ... Sorry, oh-two-oh's, but it's the truth.

But listen up. It's been way over a year since a lot of us showed up, and apparently our last jump lasted an additional year, so that means.. we've all missed a birthday. If not two! Or more, if more than one jump lasted that long. Which, to me, is a reason to celebrate. And don't give me any crap about not celebrating your birthday, because no, come on. You should party, you should feel pretty damn great about yourself. You've survived. You didn't let this place ruin you.

That's definitely worth celebrating.

[ and that's definitely something she's still working on convincing herself to be true, so. here's the motivation behind this whole transmission. oh boy. ]

And so, I'm declaring that today is, officially, our universal birthday. Everybody on the ship! It's your birthday today. So, go nuts. Forget about the fact that this place sucks for five minutes and have a drink or eat some space cake - if you can find anything like cake here anymore - do whatever you want. Relax. But mostly just try and do whatever you can to forget that this place is eventually going to k-

[ woop, crashbangbam. that's what it looks and sounds like when someone drops their comm in the middle of a sentence, oops. oh well. there's a muttered just do it! before she shuts off the comm. prepare yourselves crewmates, for the best game of pretend Wichita can muster considering.. everything. she'll try and help with the whole chilling out thing. she's not a con artist for nothing. ]

[ Caboose is extremely frustrated by the time the feed comes on; A large pout spread across his face. ]

Someone please tell me where to find a biscuit. [ That sounded much more like a demand than a request. That also wasn't a very polite way to introduce himself to the network either. Miraculously, he realized that all by himself. So let's try that again with a disturbingly sincere change in attitude. ]

My name is Caboose! And I am looking for a biscuit. You know. The toasty kind. With gooey jelly. And then you try to make a second one, but it never comes out like the one you made right before it and then you get kind of sad. You make more and you feel worse each time... That kind!

If anyone knows where to find some biscuits, please leave a message after the beep telling me where they are. Thank you! Beep!

[ There's a bit of fuzziness-- chattering-- like a conversation between two people. One has a high pitched voice and seems to be dropping the F-bomb with indescribable chatter, and the other is entirely too loud. Way, way too loud. There is a bright light, and then, two red eyes belonging to an alien creature peer into the communication device-- and then, the loud voice is heard again-- ]

Dude! What in the name of Liberty's lingerie do you think you're doing! This is like hardcore stuff, like, super way cool hardcore stuff probably seen right out of the X-Files! Tony, my number one man, don't you drop that! Give me that!

[ The device it jerked from the alien creature, who doesn't seem pleased with this at all. We now see a set of blue eyes and glasses with blonde hair--aaaaaand. He's panicking. Of course America was going to to jump to the cellular device and post to the network before anyone else are you kidding me-- ]

Okay! OKAY! Like, I need all of my back up ASAP here pronto! We've been kidnapped-- okay, no, actually, this is like--

[ He pants, looking around. There is still a good amount of blue goop on his face and good lord America get dressed you're still in your star and striped underwear. ]

OKAY YOU KNOW HOW YOU'RE LIKE MINDING YOUR OWN BIZWHACK AND SUDDENLY YOU GET THAT WEIRD SINKING FEELING IN YOUR BODY LIKE DEJA VU LIKE FREAKY WEIRD DEJA-VU, Yeah, man, TOTALLY getting that feeling and it's freakin' me out, man! Holy SHIT, this is bad! I was just jamming to Katy Perry like a boss and then I think I fell asleep on a bunch of like important government papers or something that I was supposed to do-- who gives a crap that's not serious right now-- I--

[ A BREATH!!!! Slow down, America! You talk like a thousand miles. And he does slow down, becoming a bit more coherent. ]

--I-- think I've been here before, but I don't know--! What if somebody erased my brain like outta some sci-fi movie and put weird memories back in and now I'm going to be pregnant with alien children or something mondo-crazy like WHOA-- uhh-- hey! Can anybody even hear me? This isn't like an Apple product or anything I don't think so I hope I'm using it right--

Yo, uhh, France! China! Canadia! Even England-- and I guess Russia-- ANYBODY! What the hell is going on?

[ Welcome back, America. Your memories of this place will gradually come to mind-- but here you are-- impulsively reacting without thinking as usual. Here's a permission post for 4th walling. ]

I've been wondering something for a while now. As an AI, I've had some trouble adjusting to behaving and emoting as a human, and though it has been quite some time, there are still some things that I don't understand.

Do you believe that you know what you are capable of? In any given scenario, are people meant to be aware of what they can do, or are willing to do? Or does it always come as a surprise?

[ the video feed flickers on, showing a face peering way, way too close into the camera, squinting at it curiously. it takes jion a moment to realize that it's recording and pull back, gingerly moving his hands away from where he's set the device down on a table and sitting back in his chair. he smiles at the camera, but his smile has the distinct edge of something nervous and awkward about it. ]

Uh. Hi! It seemed like saying somewhere here was the proper thing to do, so I thought I should do it. Um -- [ a pause as he looks off to the side, as if he's been taking notes on what to say. ] I'm Jion. I'm a combat medic, though I was on leave right before I ended up here. So, I guess that was pretty funny timing?

[ a somewhat nervous laugh before he continues. ]

But uh, I'm pretty boring.

And I was more interested in -- . Like, I heard we're in space, and this is a spaceship and all, and I heard that there're othe -- uh, that there's people here who aren't just normal humans?

[ he sounds a little more excited now, sitting forward to look into the camera with great anticipation. he almost seems jittery at the prospect of non-humans being here. ]

An' I think that's so cool! I don't want to be rude or anything, but I really wanna know more about that. Uh, if anyone wants to talk about it, I mean! I'd appreciate that a lot.

Communications will be a building zone over the next few few weeks while we integrate the systems from the Scylla into a workable network. We'll be occupying a number of empty rooms on 001 in the meantime, at least until things get back to normal, although if things work out we may link the rooms into Comms anyway. Things got uncomfortable last month sleeping on the floor; I think we're all agreed on that one, at least.

[ Nathan rubs his chin, considering for once just leaving it there. But then it would get very Invasion of the Body Snatchers around here. ]

For those of you that have forgotten, we have a service every seventh day - that's tomorrow - in the chapel in the Oxygen Gardens. Anyone is welcome to speak, sing, pray or otherwise sit in silence. Practically any faith is welcome. No blood sacrifices though, huh? The gardens is also where we keep our memorial wall. If you have people you miss, and you want them to be remembered, come down and make sure they're there. There's also a book where you can leave messages to loved ones past and future. Give me a call if someone's missing.

Also I need to talk to someone with a mind for the ethics of artificial intelligence, regarding the line where something's sentient. They need to be patient and keep their temper, no matter how ignorant on the subject I am. I also need to know if anyone around here does ironwork. I'm in the market for a deadbolt, so that in an emergency I don't have to barricade the door to lock it from the inside.

If anyone has questions about the Tranquility, about how things work around here, or regarding what happened last month, I'm here to answer them for you. Orientation for those who want to join Comms is tomorrow, and yes, any help with setting up the new control room would be more than welcome. That's your lot. Petrelli out.

[That's a really nice view of a kitchen ceiling popping up on your comms. Forgive the 90's kid for his lack of experience in smart phones - or maybe don't, because it might just be he's too lazy to hold the thing up while he's talking. Or it might be where he's busy rifling through every food cupboard he can find, his talking punctuated here and there by the sound of food packets being investigated, shaken around, crinkled.]

Not that I want to disrupt all the great work you people've been doing here, but those two assholes you think are in charge - you checked they're human? Might wanna label it some post-traumatic shit, but recent experience has given me a healthy distrust of taking anyone as they appear. And it'd explain this situation better than any of the vague mysterious bullshit you've been going with so far.

[There's a pause, then the sound of a box of something or other getting torn open, and yeah, when he talks again he's obviously doing it around a mouthful of food. It's been a rough couple of days, and he's hungry. It's also good for covering up any glimmers of actual concern in his voice as he carries on.]

I'm missing some people. Yeah, you heard it all before. But you see a short bug-eyed freak called Casey running around, do me a solid and point him my way.

[Jim doesn't address the ship with a hello this time around, instead cutting to the chase, the only warning the somber look on his face and the fact that he's sitting down. he isn't at a desk and there's a dirty scuff mark on his jaw, so it's clear that wherever he's making this broadcast from, it's in the middle of repairs on the ship.]

What happened with the pirates was a tragedy. [a beat] In my own universe, if we could we'd send the deceased back to their home planet for their relatives to handle. Barring that, we would opt for a space burial by jettisoning the body into the stars, whether through coffin or cremation.

[it's a little romantic, especially for Jim, but while he might not personally be very spiritual or religious, he understands that there are many who can't stand the dead being spoken of as just another body to get rid of. he, himself, still sees the dead as people— individuals he couldn't save. the dead deserved respect, because once upon a time, they'd been living and breathing and thinking.]

I know the final say will fall to medical, as it's their facilities that will need to be used in either case— [and he nods, an acknowledgement to the medical staff on board] — but I believe a funeral service should be held and would be good for all of us. A loss of life this huge can effect people in ways we might not initially expect, and we've had losses of our own number that deserve a proper goodbye.

[he's speaking of literal losses, yes, but he's also speaking of the figurative. a loss of innocence was just as tragic as the loss of a life. Kurt's post, speaking of the girl at the end of the play, came to mind, and the loss of Gingersnap was a startling blow for anyone who knew Tyke and her dogs.]

There's an outdoor chapel in the oxygen gardens, should anyone want to make use of it, or should anyone elect to hold an official service. Enterprise, we'll be meeting at Chase's apple tree on the second level at 18:00 hours. Anyone else wishing to attend is more than welcome.

I realize we have our work cut out for us with the jump only a few days away, but we need to remember to take care of ourselves and our own. We're all we've got up here, whether we like it or not. Taking a half hour of one day won't hurt.

[When the camera turns on, Marty's adjusting it before plopping down in a seat clumsily (grumbling 'fuckin' jelly legs' or something to that effect); he's got dust and oil on him, a little toil and trouble with the clean-up assistance he's been performing on the Tranquility (after pilfering a gun from the Scylla, of course). He's bone-tired and there's a bit of sweat on his brow, but in that weariness he finds temporary redirection from the shitty stuff. He's noticed, of course, people fighting plenty. People looking very tense and unhappy. The halls are even quieter, somehow. And he doesn't fuckin' like it, not one bit. Now, he's not particularly attached to this ship--duh, he's only been here a month and it's a horrible place on top of it--but like hell does he enjoy misery as company. That saying can just go shove it.

I mean, he's barely even smoking it up, lately. In fact, he's stone cold normal right now and empty-handed. They're just clasped in front of him as he leans into his knees.]

You know what I need? A break. A cigarette break, but with more words 'n shit. We've been working our asses off. Keep up the fantastic work, and all that jazz, but how about something else for a second? Juuust a second. I know we've all been stressed out, what with the pirates and the freaky-ass murdering specter captains and the--uh--ship clamped on us like a tumor. So just... Hey, I haven't--really indulged in the fact that we're all from every corner of time and space and universes and all that cool sci-fi stuff.

[He licks his lips as he considers what to say, hands motioning in front of him like he's trying to catch his own thoughts.]

You guys, we have all kinds of worlds on board! Tell me some cool shit about your world. Or about you. Whatever. Can I get some cool facts? Some jokes? Stories? Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything outside of good ol' planet Earth. Or even directed at me. No serious or traumatic stuff needed, just... stuff. Hell, if you're a connoisseur of movies or you have a thing for panda facts or you wanna tell a story about your crazy family reunions.

[He suddenly seems a little more excited, a little less tired, shifting in his seat.]

This entry is now Marty's Share Fair. I'm stuck on a funky space ship and all, so I might as well know more than the bleak stuff.

....

Just don't pull a TMI, okay? I'm sure everyone sees enough floppy nethers after each jump. We don't need to know anything about them other that the promise that you'll find a towel posthaste. Thank you in advance.

(ooc: threadjacking heavily encouraged! it'd be fun to have people find common interests or things to relate to, and I just wanted a kinda free-for-all for the S.S. Solemn Worrywarts)

Remus Lupin here. I think most of you know me. Er-- if not, well, there's your introduction. I've been on the ship for a number of months, and I've been noticing a few things.

Well, it's just-- we have fantastic organization when it comes to security and the medical bay, but we don't actually have any laws. And while we've been fortunate enough to have a peaceful crew and not need any yet-- any against stealing or, thank god, killing-- well, who knows what the next Jump will bring?

[Right. He takes a deep breath and scratches his nose, thinking for a few seconds before continuing.]

It's not just that I like rules and order-- although, frankly, that's part of the reason. But listen: without any sort of law in place, we have no real authority if and when a crime is committed. If someone kills someone else, what are we going to do? We can't rely on mob rule and what people think should be done-- god, that's how things disintegrate.

[He grimaces.]

What happened to the remaining pirates-- that cannot be allowed. What sort of society are we? We can't simply murder people because they attacked us! Keep them in the brig, yes, and we can discuss what should happen next, if they ought to be brought into the crew eventually under supervision, or kept there for life-- but we can't just slaughter them because we felt vaguely threatened. And if someone does-- as just happened-- then we need to punish them.

So with that in mind-- well, here, look at what I've written up. It's attached, I think I did it right-- and tell me what you think.

[A text document is attached. There's basic laws written out: against killing, stealing, embezzling, and so on and so forth. The punishments consist of being locked in the brig for a number of weeks, with some options for a sort of community service rehabilitation for lesser crimes.]